


Not Now, Not Ever

by White_Noise



Series: The Other Life of Quentin Holmes, Quartermaster [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Noise/pseuds/White_Noise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q found out that his brother was dead on a Tuesday afternoon. Of course, he would never accept that as anything more then a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Now, Not Ever

**Author's Note:**

> After several requests, I caved and decided to continue on with my Sherlock/James Bond crossover, featuring younger brother Quentin Holmes as shown in my other story, 'Call Me Q'
> 
> I still haven't seen the film. I just want to make that clear. It is still not out in my home country but I am counting down the days. Therefore, any characters who don't seem to match up to their on screen counterparts are my own mistake. There is only so much you can learn about someone by reading spoilers.
> 
> This may be a problem because this story is set after Skyfall, and in the days after the events of 'The Reichenbach Fall'
> 
> Once again, this is for my friend Cathryn, who has always been there, supplying ideas for my filthy writing habits.
> 
> And I just discovered that someone has placed a link to this story on Bondlock, the Tumblr page for Sherlock/James Bond crossovers. To the person who did it, thank you so much. And to everyone who found their way to this story via that site, welcome and I hope you enjoy your stay.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when Q received the news of his brother’s death. Just another day of working in the Q branch, gathering intelligence and helping agents complete their missions around the world.

In fact, Q had been in the middle of two different missions.

The first was talking 004 through his stakeout in Prague and the second, decoding and forwarding blueprints to 009 all the way in Botswana. 

He had recently come off another mission, this one involving his favourite agent, 007, who had been in Istanbul on a recon mission which had, unsurprisingly, gone pear shaped.

James (and Q wasn't sure when the agent had stopped being 007 or Bond in his mind, but vaguely suspected it was somewhere around the time the agent had pushed him into a wall in his flat and ravished him with the door half open for any of Qs neighbours to see) had managed to make it through with minimal injuries and the loss of only one weapon, as well as a whole new respect for the city and a slightly higher kill count. The agent in question was now on his way home (and no, Q wasn't counting down the hours, thank you very much)

In fact, Q had just been winding down from the thrill of that particular job (and yes, somehow working with other Double Os now counted as winding down in the Quartermasters mind) when someone entered the department who the young genius didn't expect.

Mycroft had always moved with an air of entitlement. An air of self-confidence which neither of his brothers had ever quite managed to share but which, it seemed, led him to higher places than either of his baby brother’s could ever hope to achieve (not that they would want to. Quentin Holmes may be his own person but he certainly shared Sherlock’s love for making their older brothers life difficult when it was called for)

That was why his sudden appearance in Q’s branch caught Q's attention so much. 

Unlike other times the oldest Holmes had invaded the branch, (which were remarkable, few but very memorable. The confrontations between Mycroft and the old M had reached legendary proportions towards the end), Mycroft didn't have the air of authority. 

Oh, he acted it well. Certainly well enough that anyone who didn't know him would be fooled into thinking that the man was his normal self. But Q had grown up in the same household as him, with the same parents, with the same life. 

Mycroft was on edge. 

That could only mean that something was terribly wrong.

The fact that M was also there only added to the Quartermasters curiosity. The new M, although a force in his own right, had seemingly fallen to Mycrofts intimidation, if the worried look was anything to go by. The fact that the worried look seemed to be directed at Q was more concerning.

What on earth had happened?

The presence of both Tanner and Eve was not helping Q's anxiety. Both of them looked like they were flanking M in a not so subtle attempt at showing strength against whatever Mycroft had threatened to get in here. Both were studying Mycroft with interest. It was clear that neither was sure why the older man was here and why they had been asked to tail their boss.

Normally, all it would take was a quick look for the Quartermaster to read the room, a trick which tended to drive both James and the rest of Q branch insane. However, Q was not his brother. When time was not an issue and lives were not at stake, he generally preferred to let the facts come to him, rather than deduce them himself. Although it was handy in most circumstances, there was always some little fact which was wrong and caused much annoyance for everyone. 

Suppressing the thoughts going through his head, the Quartermaster looked down at his program once more.

If Mycroft was here for him, then the older Holmes would make it known. If he wasn't, then clearly it was none of Q’s business and not worth getting involved. Although, Q couldn't help himself when he glanced up a second time, to note that M was refusing to look at him, while on the other hand, Mycroft was staring. 

Something had happened. 

Judging by the grim looks and the way Mycroft was trying to make eye contact, something bad. 

It had to be family related, since Mycroft was fidgeting, a trait he had picked up from Mummy whenever she was forced into action over one of her boys.

Probably something to do with Sherlock, since trouble for one of the brothers seemed to be the only reason why any of the Holmes siblings willingly confided in one another these days.

So, Sherlock was in trouble. Very bad trouble if Mycroft was here to see Quentin during business hours, which it now seemed he was.

Sighing, Q finished up the blueprints and forwarded them to 009. Thankfully 004’s case only required an hourly update, something which Q could pass onto someone else if Mycroft insisted on taking too much time and, there were still many hours before 007 made his presence known back at MI6 (again, not counting down the hours)

Stepping around his designated bench on the work floor, Q made his way to the group as M finally looked up, watching the young hacker as he drew near.

"Quartermaster." The man said, turning his body slightly towards Q. 

There! In his eyes. 

M was worried, watching Q carefully, like he knew Q had already put it together.

"Sir." Q replied, respectfully. 

He turned to Mycroft. "Mr Holmes."

Qs real name was classified at the highest level, not just for his own protection, but because any links to Mycroft could prove dangerous to both the Holmes brothers and to the British Government.

Mycroft nodded. He knew as well as Q the rules regarding familiarly. And yet, he didn't speak.

M seemed to understand what was going on.

"Mr Holmes has requested a private audience with you." the man explained, as if Q hadn't already worked out that much at least. M had to know about the genetic similarities between the two men. Anything less and such a request would have been denied, unless under the specific orders of Her Majesty herself.

"Of course Sir. Mr Holmes, if you would step into my office." Q stepped to the side, indicating for Mycroft to step past him. Mycroft did without hesitating, the practical side of the older Holmes clearly in control. Behind him, his assistant (Anthea? Andrea? Q honestly couldn't remember whatever name she had chosen for herself this month) hesitated before stopping herself from following her employer.

She gave Q a quick look before turning to look at her phone. Biting his lip slightly, Q turned and entered his office, pulling the door closed behind him.

Stepping past his brother, Q quickly pressed several buttons on his computer before turning.

"The cameras are off. Mycroft, what's happened?"

Mycroft was silent, looking around Q’s office.

"It's Sherlock, isn't it? Something happened to him?"

Mycroft finally turned and looked Q in the eyes.

"Quentin, Sherlock is dead. He took his own life last night."

For a moment, Q found himself in perfect balance, half of him the sonic Quartermaster, the MI6 agent who was always ready with a gadget or a witty retort. The other half was Quentin Holmes, the younger sibling who had just found out his beloved older brother had killed himself.

The Quentin part of himself won out, the Quartermaster disappearing into the back of his mind as the youngest Holmes grabbed blindly at his chair, sinking down.

Mycroft stepped closer but hesitated. Although he loved his brothers, he had never really known how to deal with them. Quentin was a kind boy, far too intelligent and fool hardy to escape the trap which MI6 had set for him so many years ago, and Sherlock.... 

Well, Sherlock had always been able to take care of himself. Mycroft had been too old to really connect with them as children and due to his own duties, had never managed it in later life. Sometimes, he thought he had missed out when it came to his baby brothers and their lives.

After a few moments of silence, Quentin looked up at Mycroft, his blue eyes suddenly flashing dangerously behind his glasses.

"Why did he do it?" He asked.

Mycroft hesitated. The Moriarty incident had been public news for a while now. There was no doubt Quentin, with his eyes in every camera, his ears in every microphone, had noticed it, although the younger man had probably ignored most of it. The rumours about Sherlock had not been kind. In fact, Mycroft was already imagining the fallout this incident would have. Sherlock would never clear his name. He would forever be seen as a fraud in the eyes of the public. And Moriarty would forever be a victim, not the terrorist the bastard truly was.

"Mycroft!" Quentin said, his voice loud as he partly rose from his chair, using his desk as a support as he glared at the older man.

The older Holmes sighed.

"It looks like the perfect suicide. A desperate man who had lost everything." Mycroft tried to explain.

"Except it wasn't." Quentin finished. "Something else was at play here."

Mycroft nodded. He knew better then to try and keep the truth from Quentin.

"The cameras on the roof made it clear that it was blackmail. Sherlock offered up his own life to save those of his friends."

Slowly, Quentin lowered himself back down into his seat, nodding. 

Suddenly, he cleared his throat. A change came over his face as the part of him which was Quentin Holmes disappeared once more.

"Well, thank you for taking the time to inform me in person. I would offer to see you out but I have work to complete and I am sure you are busy too. Good day Mycroft."

"I will send you details about the funeral soon Quentin. Until then, take care if yourself. I have no desire to trade words with your Mr Bond because you cannot even look after yourself."

Quentin remained silent but shot him an angry look before looking away, pulling open one of the many laptops he kept around the department.

Mycroft nodded and pushed the office door open, leaving his brother to work in peace. Quentin had always handled situations in his own way. If he wanted to use his work to help deal with his grief, then that was what he would do. Mycroft had done his job in informing the younger man of Sherlocks death. It was now up to Quentin to do the rest.

Q waited, slowly counting under his breath as the door closed before him. He reached 32 before the screen flickered to life in front of him, 78 before M poked his head through the door, gave the Quartermaster a pitying look and disappeared again, 396 before Eve entered the room with a cup of Earl Grey and a lot of questions which were doomed to be ignored and 650 before he found what he was looking for. Mycroft hadn't been forthcoming about Sherlocks death but the newspapers had.

Hacking into the CCTV feed at St Bartholomew's Hospital had been depressingly easy and finding the camera to the roof even more so. Then, Q sat back in his chair to watch his brother die.

The first time he watched it without the audio feed, the second time with. The third, fourth and fifth time he wasn't sure, too engrossed in the footage to care. After the sixth, he started again, this time from the footage at the entrance of the hospital. And then again, from the camera across the street.

Finally, after he had exhausted every possible link, exploited every possible camera, Q sat back in his chair thinking hard. Finally, he rose from his seat. Gathering his things, the Quartermaster left his office.

He ignored the few people still left in Q branch, the night shift having long since replaced the day shift in monitoring the few agents currently in the field.

Letting himself fall into autopilot, Q barely noticed as he made his way through the dark and back to his apartment. He didn't notice as he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn't taste the slightly burn taste of the toast as he ate, nor the Earl Grey which he drank. He stared blindly at a wall as he changed for bed, slipping into the comfort of his pajamas.

Without thinking, the hacker dropped his phone on the bedside table beside his glasses and slipped under the sheets, curling up on his side of the bed.

He stared blindly into the dark, unable to find sleep. 

After several hours of this, Q heard the soft footsteps. He didn't react. A few minutes after, the blankets shifted around him. Again, Q remained silent as the Double O agent slipped in beside him. 

James didn't speak, probably believing that the Quartermaster was asleep. Instead, he simply pressed himself against the younger mans back and with a sigh, drifted off. 

Q remained awake.

After another hour, the Quartermaster shifted slightly, reaching out from under the blankets and towards his bedside table. Grabbing both his glasses and his phone, Q slowly shifted, trying to position his body to conceal the light.

He peered through the lenses at the screen of the phone before bringing up a new message. He typed in the number he had long since learnt by heart before carefully entering the message.

_'Nice trick Sherlock ~ QH'_

He sent the message before shoving the phone under the pillow and waiting. It was a long short, nothing more then a theory. But one Q was prepared to bet everything on.

After a few minutes, he felt the pillow vibrate. Pulling out the phone, he opened the new message.

_'Your praise is always appreciated Quentin ~ SH'_

Q found out his brother was dead on a Tuesday afternoon. Of course, he would never accept that was anything more then a lie. In the early hours of a Wednesday morning, he found out that his brother was alive. This time, he believed it.

Q smiled. 

Placing the phone and his glasses back on the table, the hacker snuggled back against his sleeping secret agent.

Sherlock Holmes was alive and once again, all was right in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I apologise. I know Q is most likely horribly, horribly OOC. But this idea wouldn't wait for the next week and a half until I can finally see the movie for myself.


End file.
